Trying to understand why

Mourners flock to Dallas police stations

DALLAS — They came bearing flowers, not knowing what else to do.

In the wake of the worst tragedy involving law enforcement since 9/11, shocked residents made their way to Dallas Police Department headquarters to pay their respects and try to make sense of the unthinkable.

They placed flowers, teddy bears, balloons and messages of support on two parked squad cars that became a makeshift memorial for the fallen.

Some people came alone. Others came in pairs or groups. Some parents brought their children, who offered hugs to police officers standing quietly nearby wearing strips of black tape over their badges.

The numbers behind the tragedy are staggering.

Four Dallas police officers and one Dallas Area Rapid Transit officer were killed.

Seven officers and two civilians were injured.

Twenty-two city blocks were cordoned as an active crime scene in the heart of the city.

Tensions remained high. Saturday evening, about a dozen SWAT and police officers rushed to a parking garage behind police headquarters. There were unconfirmed reports on social media and news outlets of a threat and that the department was on lockdown.

The Police Department said on Twitter that officers “were searching the police parking garage for a suspicious person.” Eventually, the garage was cleared.

President Barack Obama, traveling in Europe, called Texas Gov. Greg Abbott on Saturday to offer condolences on behalf of the American people. The president was expected to be in Dallas early this week at the invitation of Mayor Mike Rawlings.

The governor thanked the president for the call and reiterated the need for Americans to come together and unite in the wake of this tragedy.

In Corsicana, a procession led by members of the Navarro County, Corsicana and Corsicana ISD police departments brought the body of Brent Thompson, 43, back to his hometown, about an hour southeast of Dallas.

Thompson worked with the Dallas Area Rapid Transit Police Department since 2009.

Hundreds of members of the community and surrounding area lined the streets Saturday in front of the Griffin-Roughton Funeral Home, where family and friends gathered to mourn the officer’s passing.

Young and old, black and white, a diverse crowd came out to give Thompson a final welcome home.

Some spectators carried U.S. flags, some carried signs, some carried babies, but almost everyone in the tight-knit community seemed connected to Thompson in some way and braved the humidity and gathering storm clouds to show up in force.

Thompson was the first of the shooting victims to be honored by his hometown community.

Police identified the gunman as Army veteran Micah Johnson, 25, who opened fire at officers Thursday night as an emotional but peaceful Black Lives Matter protest was winding down in downtown Dallas.

“We got a guy with a long rifle,” one officer said over the radio. “We don’t know where the hell he’s at.”

Reports began trickling in that the gunman was on the campus of El Centro College.

“I don’t know where he’s at, but he’s in that building,” an officer said. “I hear shots in that building.”

Bystanders took video of officers searching for the gunman, taking cover behind patrol cars, and tending to the fallen.

One video appeared to show the gunman sneak up on a police officer near the pillar of a building and open fire at point-blank range. The officer fell to the ground.

Police finally cornered the gunman on the second floor of the college parking garage, where he exchanged fire with officers and refused to cooperate with police negotiators.

The man “told our negotiators that the end is coming,” Police Chief David Brown said at a news conference while the standoff still was underway. “And he’s going to hurt and kill more of us, meaning law enforcement, and that there are bombs all over the place in this garage and in downtown.”

“We saw no other option but to use our bomb robot and place a device on its extension for it to detonate where the suspect was,” Brown said. “Other options would have exposed our officers to grave danger. The subject is deceased as a result of detonating the bomb.”

The Black Lives Matter rally was held to protest the recent controversial police shootings of two black men: Alton Sterling, who was killed in Baton Rouge during a struggle with two officers, and Philando Castile, who was killed during a traffic stop in Falcon Heights, Minnesota.

Johnson told police negotiators he was upset by the deaths, frustrated with the Black Lives Matter movement and angry at white people.

At Johnson’s home in Mesquite northeast of Dallas, authorities said they found “bomb-making materials, ballistic vests, rifles, ammunition, and a personal journal of combat tactics.”

Organizers of Black Lives Matter condemned the attack, and several supporters of the movement worried the mass shooting will inflame racial tensions and overshadow their cause.

“It takes one stupid person to make one good event worthless,” said Jason Luper, whose grandmother Clara was a civil rights leader in Oklahoma. “Now it causes more tension amongst races, it divides races more than anything. It’s sad for both sides.”

Luper’s friends said the deaths of the officers were just as tragic as the deaths of the black men that sparked the Black Lives Matter movement.

“I mean, murder is murder,” said Josh Owens, who attended the protest Thursday, heard the gunfire and watched as police surrounded the college parking garage. “It’s wrong on both ends. Injustice is injustice.”

Curtis King, founder and president of the Black Academy of Arts and Letters, grew up in Mississippi during the Civil Rights Movement. He said it was eerie hearing gunfire downtown — and disheartening to witness how the cycle of violence never seems to end.

“Dallas is still a great city,” King said. “We have to work harder at this. But we have to listen. We have to not shout at each other. We have to be able to just listen.”

Since Friday, impromptu memorials have sprouted at police stations across Dallas.

Outside the department’s Southwest District station, where three of the slain officers had worked, flowers and balloons covered two patrol cars. Supporters dropped off bottles of water, Gatorade and snacks for police.

At one point, a silver Honda Odyssey pulled up.

“My boss said I could do this for you guys,” said Sonya Ing, a delivery driver with Domino’s Pizza who served boxes of free pizza for the officers.

“I’m just so proud of you guys,” she said as she hugged them.

Terry Thomas, a retiree of the Milwaukee Police Department, tried to hold back tears when he visited the memorial.

“I felt compelled to come here,” said Thomas, who joined the force during the civil unrest of the 1960s and knew fellow officers who were killed or injured.

“It’s so disheartening,” he said. “We went through this in ’67, ’68, and nothing’s changed.”

Don Gieseke, who volunteers as a chaplain with the nonprofit Crisis Response Ministries, said it’s difficult to overstate how much the heartfelt public support means to police as they mourn the loss of fellow officers who were like family.

“They are very much aware of what the public response is to this,” Gieseke said. “And the fact that there is such an outpouring of support is huge.”

The break room inside the substation in the Southwest District is “full of food” from well-wishers, Gieseke said.

“You can see the flowers out here,” he added. “These things are touching them greatly.”

At the memorial outside the main police headquarters downtown, Lysette Vasquez was looking for a spot to place a bouquet of yellow roses when she noticed a group of Dallas police officers standing nearby under the shade of some trees.

She handed roses to her young children, whispered in their ears, and watched as they each handed a flower to the officers, who gladly accepted them.

The officers smiled and posed for pictures with the children. They offered them stickers in the shapes of police badges.

Vasquez said she didn’t know what else to do to help. She just knew she had to be there.

After paying their respects, Vasquez and her children left the memorial.

But long after they were gone, the police officers still were holding their yellow roses.